July 9, 2014

Crossing Into Canada

A week ago today was our anniversary, and I spent the day thinking, next Wednesday we will be in Niagara Falls.  And so we are. I think we look like innocent American’s as we cross into Canada, but after a few jokes with the border patrol about guns (they joked, not us—they say/think all Texans own guns, carry guns and shoot guns on a regular basis) we sit on a hard bench and watch as three individuals disassemble our car.  Boy, are they going to be sorry.  Stuffing it all back in — in the suitcase and in the trunk — will be a challenge I wouldn’t want to take on.

Room with a View

After a missed turn, turning in circles, not missing the turn, unloading luggage, loading luggage (too much luggage — I packed three months of all-weather clothes together in two suitcases, his and hers), two overnight bags, a camera case, a computer case, and a few more miscellaneous things on the bellhops cart, he opens the door to our suite. I can’t help but notice a wall of windows beyond the sitting room and in the bedroom. The glimpse of a miracle draws me forward. I sweep past the bellhop, the luggage and Michael, heading for the window. And there it is. The Falls I thought I’d never see.  The Falls I didn’t know I wanted to see – till now. Finally, I think, “A Room with a View.” Merchant & Ivory, where are you? We sit. We stare. We soak it all in, till we decide being there would be much better. 

On the Canadian side, the falls are very accessible. Apparently, we can leave our hotel and be there within minutes.  The entire town caters to the tourist.  Everything is pristine and perfect with sculpted grounds and flowing baskets of flowers everywhere.  It is all high-rise hotels and restaurants with other things: too many other things. Touristy other things squeezed in between sleeping, eating, and just looking.

Niagara Falls

We continue on our short journey toward the Niagara River and the falls. Up a hill, down a (big, big) hill, ending at the water’s edge.  We start at the end (the falls across from us on the USA side).  Everyone says, “You have to see them from the Canadian side,” I couldn’t understand why.  Now I do. You don’t understand the difference between the US side and the Canadian side until you are here. Then it is a light bulb moment.

The Falls are indescribable. The word majestic pales at the reality of what I see before me. They take my breath away. This is so unexpected.  Why, I wonder, did I wait so long to see this miracle of Mother Nature? What lead me to think it was nothing but a tourist trap and nothing special to see? The deafening roar of thunder. The awe-inspiring mist that drifts and swirls and blows. The sight and the sound that envelopes me. Mesmerizes. Dwarfs. I could stand here and stare until I collapse from fatigue. But instead, we head back to the hotel and dinner.

Underneath the Falls

This morning we make our way upstream and float into the swirling mist, riding a boat to the feet of the majestic falls towering above. The key, I find, is to discover your own space away from the crowds, letting the world around you melt into oblivion and allowing yourself to be swept away with the wonder and the magnitude and the power of this place the Indians named Niagara. Thunder of Waters.

Off the boat, I am heady with the sight and sound and fury of the Falls. The crooning Elvis impersonator that greets us on our ascent back to reality is a tad too real, albeit entertaining. It does seem an abomination for this carnival-like creation to be here next to Mother Nature’s glorious thunder.

Lingering and Leaving

We walk along the river toward the hotel looking for a place to have a light lunch, passing up one option, looking for something better, then backtrack, serendipity guiding the way. We follow the hostess to an outside table tucked into a corner overlooking the river where I can see both Falls spilling and spewing glorious shades of green and blue and white. And we drink.  And we eat.  And we linger.  And then we order another glass of wine so we can linger and gaze a while longer.

I wake early this morning with intentions of packing and getting ready for our journey to Montreal. The sun is on the cusp of rising and warming the earth. The pastel blush of the morning sky—the calm of a windless day, creates unintended magic. The spray from the cascading falls billows and clusters, forming a giant earth-bound cloud that showers the streets like light spring rain. I sit and stare in child-like wonder.